


The language of flowers

by trustmeallnight



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Emperor Hwang Minhyun, M/M, and his lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustmeallnight/pseuds/trustmeallnight
Summary: "If someday I no longer had these fingers you say are perfect… Would you still, even then, love them?”“If one day you no longer had those fingers I adore, I would give you my own to use. There is no question about it.”
Relationships: Hinted, Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Comments: 25
Kudos: 28





	1. Spring Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a baekron but let's not talk about that i actually changed it bc my fav fucked with the baekmin and i'd rip out the moon for her 
> 
> also please excuse i know they are korean but i used chinese culture IM SORRY i took a class on it and it's all i know plus immaculate vibes don't you think?
> 
> also this will be changed to explicit fair warning
> 
> also guan guan cry the fish hawks is the poem

In a tiny hidden room in an otherwise inconceivably large palace, a man is hunched over a desk carved out of the finest zitan wood. Under elegantly arched flying eaves that decorate the space overhead, equally elegant fingers trace out neatly written characters and a delicately arched cupid’s bow quietly mumble foreign pronunciations to himself. Not a single sound echoes within the open-spaced room besides the already familiar chirping of the crickets hanging in small cages outside and the faint scratching of ink against paper. The wind itself has gone missing from the world, so all that’s left is the light chorus of chirps and the crinkling of slightly worn rice paper.

Minhyun sits leisurely on his chair as he holds an ink stick in his hand, eyes roaming down a line of black ink that stains the paper. He dips the tool in the ink stone once again, watching as black wells up in a ball at the very top, before moving it in small, harsh strokes that show up as the darkest night on unblemished, white paper. 

A lone cup sits on a tray just an arm away from him, porcelain half-filled with osmanthus petals sprinkled in green tea. The scent drifts in its own hot steam, carrying the light aroma right up to his sensitive nose. Nearby, the woman who mixed the tea sits on her heels with folded hands and head bowed towards the man.

“ _ A ragged fringe is the floating heart, left and right we trail it _ ,” Minhyun murmurs as ink drips down carelessly from his brush, “ _ awake, asleep, I search for her _ .” Annoyance bubbles in his throat as the splotch of ink sinks down into the paper and spreads like poison into the veins of thin wood, yet his hand remains steady as it trails downwards onto the next empty space. 

_ I search but cannot find her,  _

_ awake, asleep, thinking of her, _

_ endlessly, endlessly,  _

_ turning, tossing from side to side. _

He leans back onto his seat, softwood painted with ochre and dark green lacquer gently holding his straightened back as he brings his head up, and roams his eyes all over the scroll. It’s unpresentable, he decides, and the ink stick cracks in his hand and drops to the floor in powdered bits. He closes his eyes against the messy characters, so only his ears are open to the soft sound of feminine limbs picking up each scattered piece of black ink.

“ _ A ragged fringe is the floating heart _ ,” he trails off into a tapering silence. His powdered fingers clench onto the wooden armrests. The crickets still mindlessly chirp in their cages.

_ A ragged fringe _ -

Outside, the sun casts light and warmth onto the ground. The trees look as happy as to feel the sun’s glow on the crowns of their heads, and the grass dances to the rays’ invisible tunes. Minhyun suddenly feels too trapped.

_ A ragged fringe _ …

“I am leaving now.”

He quickly darts up from his chair, the wood sliding harshly across the floor, and ignores the woman’s gasp. His feet step quickly out of the room and into the blinding sunlight, the earth welcoming him as soft ground slightly swallows his clothed feet. All it takes is a single, heaving breath before his lungs return from their twice constricted status from when his fingers bled with ink.

The open courtyard in front of Minhyun bears no one in its space, just the unspeaking plants that have bud since March. Green grass trembles in the wind that has decided to surface once Minhyun escapes into clear skies while peonies, orchids, and camellias face their buds towards him as if they also bow just as the humans do. He prefers the subtle bends in their stems rather than the waist-breaking angles at which his own family does unto him.

To the right of the courtyard, a small archway leads Minhyun to an even clearer path with even more flora that never fails to deliver him the air which he craves at every hour. He is infinitely glad for his ancestor’s thoughtless planning as a messy array of colors line up in rows for his fingers. The garden remains the place that houses his calming mind and slowing heart.

Minhyun strolls along the white stones at a slow pace meant to enjoy the walk. The precisely cut path rolls forward through endless bushes and bushels of flowers. A light glow from the Sun covers the heads of every plant, tempting his eye at every swivel of his neck. The itching of his hands tells him to abruptly stop before snow white flowers.

He stops to stoop down and pick stray chrysanthemums. White petals fall at his feet to join healthy grass as he rustles through the bushes. He holds one stem, three stems, five in his palm and one tucked into his belt before his back prickles from something unknown. He quickly stands up and turns around.

The lone gardener standing meters away eyes the emperor. Clippers sit in his hand as he nears the clumped bushes where Minhyun faces. His displeasure shows despite the tight-lipped smile he gives the noble. 

Flustered, Minhyun darts up, clutching the flowers tight in his palm, and continues towards the path. Leaves and fallen sticks crunch under his feet as he paces towards the towering pavilion hidden behind green.

The chrysanthemums in his hand and his belt kiss their siblings still breathing on ivy green leaves as he comes closer to the pavilion. The flowers act as doors of some sort, and Minhyun takes care to push apart white and green curtains before it clears into an open space, much like the other spaces that litter the palace grounds. 

In the middle of cleared ground and white stones, a wooden pavilion rises above the foliage with its flying eave roof, a mirror of the palace’s own curved white roofs. Under the painted green layer of wood that turns into shapes of clouds and soft geometric shapes, six blood red pillars drill down into the stone floor and hold the hefty weight of the mighty roof. Kyubi fox spirits engrave themselves onto the wooden railings, their ancestors and predecessors carved into every other railing present on the grounds. Here, they won’t deceive anyone besides the human eye as they flash their flowing nine tails.

The architecture ingrained in his bloodline never fails to leave him withering under its unusually large size. They house hundreds, maybe even thousands, of memories and long gone spirits that sat in the same throne as he did, that echoed the same orders to servants as he does. They roam all around him every day, waiting to see the moment he fails to uphold the throne, and he knows they won’t hesitate to dig their talons into the cracks he’ll show. 

He never really did enjoy architecture lessons in the slightest.

Minhyun stops in his steps as he spots a single figure seated in the middle of the pavilion. The building’s arching roof and towering columns house a robed, upright man who sits on a patterned silk rug. The head of a fox peeks out from underneath him. He looks out of place, so small in the overwhelmingly large structure and even smaller sitting on top of the majestic beast that claims the Hwangs’ land.

The noble’s breathing almost stops. His lungs work less with smaller breaths, yet still no sound releases. He just simply watches the silent scene. Not even the crickets chirp their dissent to the body on the floor.

The man sits on the floor, almost motionless. His figure’s bathed in white robes with the occasional cardinal red accent wrapped around his waist and lined among his sleeves. The only other color that catches the eye is a jade green carving that hangs off the man’s silk belt, hung up in one of the knots of a gold thread tied into a bow around the red belt. A swish of his own fabric breaks Minhyun’s passive silence.

“Dongho.” 

The man turns his head to the call. His eyes widen at the sight of the emperor, alone, calling out his name. He’s quick to lower his head in respect.

“Emperor.” Dongho rushes out as Minhyun steps closer. 

Minhyun walks up the stone steps of the elevated pavilion to meet Dongho’s seated body. A questioning glance and Dongho waves a flowing sleeve towards the opposite of him.

“Please join me if you would like, Emperor.” 

Minhyun furrows his brows as he gingerly takes a seat. His robes swim on the floor, navy blue and gold joining Dongho’s pristine white silk as they splay out around the two bodies. Their clothes swim together on top of the squinting eyes of the fox spirit under them, and Minhyun effectively moves his robes to cover it all. The regal fox has no place here now.

“Minhyun,” the emperor says as he finishes fixing his robes, “address me as Minhyun.” Dongho flushes slightly at the blunt command.

“Yes… Minhyun.” 

They both turn away from each other at the sudden tension. Minhyun slightly smiles, though, at how nice his name sounds coming from Dongho. 

He lowers his eyes and finds himself pleasantly surprised as a dark mahogany guqin is delicately set on a low table. Dongho’s fingers are expertly poised above the taught strings, except no sound is uttered as he carefully watches Minhyun’s movements. 

“You’re playing right now?”

Dongho plucks at a random string, invoking a high note to ring loud in Minhyun’s ears.

“I play every day,” Dongho replies before smiling apologetically at Minhyun’s downcast eyes, “I don’t usually do so outside.”

“But you should. You looked very elegant from where I stood in the garden. I’m sure no one would mind,” Minhyun says. He places a long sleeve on top of the table and caresses the instrument with the tips of his fingers. It’s smooth under his touch, and he experimentally plucks the top string. It’s not quite as beautiful as when Dongho did it.

“Thank you,” Dongho shyly says, “but I’m not looking for an audience.”

“Not for me?”

Minhyun’s shocked face has Dongho slightly giggling. His fingers dance along with his chest as he laughs. It plucks at a string in Minhyun’s own chest that rings in a higher tone.

“Perhaps I could make an exception,” Dongho allows. 

Biting his lip, Dongho reaches out further up the guqin. When he doesn’t pluck at a string, Minhyun is confused. Instead, the man grabs Minhyun’s finger that plays with the top string and gently places it back on the table.

“I’m sorry,” Dongho apologizes with an even gentler voice, “it was distracting me.”

Minhyun’s eyes widen before he barks out sharp bursts of laughter. His hands remain steady on the table.

“No-“ He laughs some more as Dongho looks at him quizzically, “-no, it was my fault. Don’t apologize.” He settles down before finally slouching his back to carefully examine the poised fingers above the string instrument. “Go on, then.”

Dongho smiles at the looming head of the emperor before he sets to practice. The strings are already tuned as he did so when he woke up, so the moment his fingers play with each note, the tune becomes crisp and clear to both of their ears. 

Minhyun can’t help but keep his eyes focused on Dongho as he plays. The man’s nimble fingers gracefully span over the seven strings, plucking each one to produce a simple melody. Not a single note appears out of tune as he continues.

It’s an unfamiliar song to Minhyun, but he catches the melody fairly quickly and watches as it unfolds under the careful pressure Dongho’s fingers give. At times, he makes aborted flicks that strum out loud, ear-ringing notes that make Minhyun want to stand on top of the highest mountain just out on the horizon. Other times, as the man’s ring finger rests languidly on the strings, he strums in one fluid motion with the other hand, and the note instead resembles slow sea waves at the early break of dawn. The note plays as a warm blanket that drapes in one movement over Minhyun’s heavy shoulders, and it instantly calms his racing heart.

Most of all, even as Minhyun remains forever impressed by how agile and delicate Dongho’s short fingers can be as they glide over silk strings, it’s his parted lips that draw Minhyun in. It’s how his normally bright, amiable face darkens just as the sky does every day and the way his eyebrows draw in until unsightly wrinkles connect like a bridge. It’s how his eyes don’t perceive the beautiful, breathing world around him, and only his guqin can provide the life he dares to invoke through his fingers.

_ A ragged fringe is the floating heart, _

_ left and right we pick it _

_ left and right we trail it _

_ awake, asleep, I search for her _

There’s rustling all around them as a breeze that had previously escaped Minhyun’s cold breath trails through the area, and a shower of plum blossoms flow over the pavilion, bathing the background in a hue of pink. Petals scattered on the soil below revive from the sound of harmonious strings and blow onto the pavilion’s ground. They scramble along both of the men’s robes, up their sleeves, and below the strings of Dongho’s guqin. 

Despite the overpour of blossoms, Dongho continues focusing on his music. His eyes, sharp and keen, continue to slide along the silver strings despite stray flowers brushing over his eyelids. Not once has anything disturbed his graceful movements. Even when blossoms bury themselves like a cat does into its precious blanket into Dongho’s blond hair, Dongho lets them rest there. The strings never falter in their slow song, and neither does the man plucking them with all of the care he holds in ten fingers.

Ever the attentive listener, Minhyun still listens in his seated position. The hands now planted on his knees play along with Dongho’s tune, albeit his tune would probably sound horrible. His throat itches with the urge to join what Dongho creates, but it’s a bubble Minhyun respects. 

As the song rides past its crescendo and slows down to a melody fit for a picky child’s lullaby, Dongho’s face reverts back to the softness that camouflaged in with the delicately bloomed flowers. Tiny trickles of notes float out into the air as the player’s red-tipped fingers strum in sweeter motions and come to a slowly flattening stop.

With wide eyes and poised fingers, Dongho looks up to Minhyun’s shining awe.

“What do you think?”

Breathlessly, Minhyun answers, “Perfect.” 

Dongho smiles, a curve so genuine Minhyun wishes there was a way to store it in his sash forever, before covering his red fingers behind a draping sleeve and bringing it up to his mouth. He is now shy, and it’s Minhyun who suddenly feels the surge of energy that Dongho seemed to hoard this whole time.

“You’re perfect.” He places his fingers on the table and lightly drums them. Dongho’s eyes dart down to follow them before they slide up to meet Minhyun’s confident gaze. “The way your fingers almost danced by themselves was perfect. I enjoyed it very much.”

Dongho lowers his eyes once again, but they land on his stringed instrument instead, and the white sleeve hiding what Minhyun misses lays to rest on his lap.

“If,” Dongho hesitates before moving in his spot, “if someday I no longer had these fingers you say are perfect…” Sleeves shuffle as now pink fingers peek out from behind silk and place themselves between their now connected gazes. The closer they are to Minhyun’s face, the more he spots small scars that line the endless swirls of Dongho’s fingers. “Would you still, even then, love them?”

“Why do you ask me this?” 

Minhyun, who barely ever uttered a happy word to his own father and mother long ago, laughs for the second time that day. He takes Dongho’s still hand in his own and spreads out each finger. Pink tapers off into a light tan, scars blend in almost seamlessly into otherwise unblemished skin. They’re unlike his own pale, soft hands that never created much on their own.

“If one day you no longer had those fingers I adore,” Minhyun trails off as he presses a kiss onto the empty fourth finger, “I would give you my own to use. There is no question about it.”

The fingers that stilled so quietly are suddenly ripped from his grasp. He looks up, startled, as Dongho shoves his hands back into his white sleeves. Aggravation is quick to rise in Minhyun’s veins before he catches a subtle rose coloring Dongho’s cheeks and ears.

“There is no need, Emperor, I was teasing. You should not as well.”

Minhyun snorts, an ugly, brief noise that would certainly unsettle his family, before standing up. Layers upon layers of navy and shimmering gold follow his long legs and torso before he finally meets Dongho on one side of the table.

Dongho looks up with eyes that remind Minhyun of the stars that fall in arcs above his head on those rare moments he looks outside.

And, yet, here it is now in bright daylight, white shining stars that show up in the clear shine of Dongho’s own pupils. It’s more disorientating than he remembered.

“Are you implying that I am dishonest? I mean every word I will ever say to you.”

Minhyun extends a hand, offering his palm up for Dongho. The man takes it, placing graceful fingers into Minhyun’s hand and gathering up his robes and body to barely reach the emperor’s height. 

They stand face to face now, their clothing and hair drifting in the wind like the blossoms that once were. Minhyun lightly squeezes the other man’s hand before letting its warmth go. Amusing disappointment flutters across Dongho’s face. Dongho intertwines his own fingers together, rubbing at his hands as if he keeps the touch afterwards.

“Jade compliments you.” Minhyun points to a low hanging sash tied together with gold thread.

Dongho looks down at the symbol Minhyun refers to hanging from his robes. It dangles loosely, catching the stray light and shining against Minhyun’s eyes. The motif of a sun shines against the morning light.

“Yes,” Dongho lifts up the piece and peers at it, “it’s very beautiful, indeed. Thank you again, Minhyun.”

Minhyun smiles proudly at Dongho. He lifts up his own carving hung around his neck. It had been given to him at birth by his father; two mountains of jade to emphasize his strength and fearlessness. It hung heavily on Minhyun when he was just a child sitting in his room. Now, he wears it proudly around the palace he looks over.

“I thought they should match. Don’t you think so?” Minhyun asks Dongho who still holds his jade. 

Its curled edges are caressed by worn fingers as he traces the miniature green sun. The gift Minhyun gave to Dongho a year ago captures the sun’s glint and reflects back onto tan skin. Much like the sun itself, Dongho shines with a glow that no one in Minhyun’s memory has ever had. He’s always been shining, even when he is far away, but it’s the sight of Dongho’s gentle fingers treating Minhyun’s gift like porcelain that prompts him to fall like rain.

He drops his own pendant and closes his fingers around Dongho’s chin, pulling up the man’s head to look directly at him. His other arm wraps around Dongho’s waist and pulls him closer. A light pink dusts Dongho’s cheeks as he’s enveloped in Minhyun’s arms. 

“Minhyun,” Dongho nervously huffs, “what is this?”

Minhyun leans further in to brush his nose against Dongho’s. 

He whispers to Dongho’s lips, “I hope you never forget that you are my sun, the one who brightens my day, and the one who gives me strength to rule over this land every single time. My beauty.” 

Minhyun brushes his mouth over Dongho’s parted lips. They’re smooth against his own, and there’s nothing like the way a soft breath comes his way. It’s better than the way the wind blows in his hair every autumn, even more peaceful than summer’s hot breeze against his skin as he bathed under the waterfalls.

Dongho’s eyes flutter into slits as he meets Minhyun’s brazen gaze before He mumbles a small, “Minhyun,” and leans in closer to press his lips against Minhyun’s. 

They mold together to create a single form in the frozen garden. Darker blue envelopes pristine white as Minhyun pulls a small waist even closer to him, and white envelops blue as Dongho drapes full sleeves around Minhyun’s neck. They blend in as much as much as the blue azaleas littering the ground’s edges blend into the afternoon sky. Minhyun and Dongho, the both of them connected as they wished for so long, are not flowers, but they bloom beautifully under the great attention of the other. 

“Emperor…” Dongho breathes out as he lifts his head to take in air. Minhyun silences the cry by pressing his lips over Dongho’s again. It is smooth, and it is warm, allowing Minhyun to slide over them with little effort. 

Warmth encompasses them as they continue moving against one another. Even when spring has been among them for a while, and even with their thin sleeves urging on the air to breathe freely within them, it feels like the sun seeks only them now. The slide of Minhyun’s tongue over Dongho’s rouge lips is heat to the other man, the moisture gathering up in Dongho’s palms that slide against the back of Minhyun’s bare neck is also heat, and the tiny glints in their eyes as dark pupils peek out from hooded eyes is fire in their bodies. Minhyun can only wrap both arms around Dongho’s waist and pull him tighter to encourage the feverish feeling in his chest.

Loud footsteps and a sharp cough interrupt their embrace. There’s an audience of one, but it takes longer for Minhyun and Dongho to separate. Red lips, whether from rouge or from how hard Minhyun took his desires from Dongho, retreat with a wet sound before turning to the innocent intruder.

Minhyun looks at the servant who watches them with timid eyes. Dongho tucks in the crook of his neck, breathing shallowly into Minhyun’s skin. It’s a distraction, sure, but Minhyun maintains sharp eyes at a servant who begins to shrink in on herself.

The woman who retrieves them shuffles nervously and mutters, “Kim Jonghyun requests your presence, Emperor.”

Dongho’s breath falters for a second. Minhyun sighs, carding his fingers through the man’s hair one more time before untangling them. 

“I will be there shortly.” The servant bows an affirmation before scampering away back to the palace.

Minhyun stands across from Dongho, both of their robes still flowing in the wind but now as two separate beings. The minutes that kept themselves busy passed by as quickly as his blurred childhood did, but it’s not his clumsy adolescent body that has his heart as clenched up as now. Instead, a grown Minhyun wishes he could reach out and keep Dongho within his arms forever.

The emperor instead clenches his hands, palms turning white from the pressure. They’re as white as Dongho’s silk robes now, as white as the chrysanthemum hanging from his sash. With a gentle hand, he pulls out the vibrant green stem from his waist and holds it out to Dongho’s lowering eyes.

“This is for you,” he says as Dongho eyes the healthy flower lying in the noble’s grip. 

Each white petal spreads out like a fan, a sight so beautiful that Minhyun feels the need to delicately place the stem in the blond head under him without another word. Thick hair hides the green body of the flower until only its white petals compliment the light hue of Dongho’s hair. If Minhyun thought his favorite flowers looked beautiful dancing with the wind while buried in soil, he had yet to experience the sight of his flower’s beauty blooming under the white chrsyanthemum’s influence.

With a final sigh, Minhyun pulls his hand away and says, “I must be going now.” 

“Of course.” Dongho’s voice is smaller than he remembered it. Minhyun feels as if it is his own doing, and it doesn’t sit right within his chest.

The emperor turns his back to the pavilion, to the mahogany string instrument he wants to learn now, and to his sun, star, and flower that watches his wide shoulders tense up the more he reaches the opening of the garden. 

It’s not the last he’ll see of Dongho, he knows and doesn’t fight. He’s a sweet weakness Minhyun will indulge in even more as the season passes. Just the thought of a sweet melody drifting through the air, a white flower embedded in blond hair, and white silk holding a body he wants to own is enough for Minhyun to meet the familiar sight of his own cricket’s cage of a palace.

  
  



	2. Summer Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do be finishing this at 5 in the morning
> 
> but only because i must go on for my princess queen, queen princess
> 
> <3

Spring passes in a slow rush of winds that comes from the southeast until the day summer is ushered in with its accompanying humidity. The sky is still clear from pesky clouds that disturb the mountaintops lands away, instead it stays an unblemished blue. People walk slower in the streets at this time, conversation picks up faster than ever, there’s more spirit in the air that livens up any lone body hanging around the paths.

Minhyun overlooks the busy streets from his place on the wooden balcony. Sturdy wood hardly makes a creak under his weight as he slowly paces the perimeter. His usually narrowed eyes have softened into a tolerable expression as he scans the crowds that busy themselves with their destined work. He rests an arm on the thin railing, right over the carving of a trailing cloud, and allows it to drape over the wood. While his fingers dance over freeing air, his feet remain stiff to the floor.

“Emperor Hwang.”

Rustling clothes and padded feet join him on the balcony and stand next to him. 

“Jonghyun,” Minhyun greets back. 

His brother lowers his head before leaning onto the railing. Much like Minhyun, Jonghyun drapes his body over the wood, but it’s not a single hand that feels the heights. Jonghyun’s sleeves hang dangerously over people’s heads as he stretches his arms out. People look up at the two nobles’ presence, and it’s Jonghyun that makes them smile, their steps even faster as they watch the man wave down at them.

“They seem to like you,” Minhyun observes. 

Jonghyun continues to entertain the public as he says, “I’m doing what you won’t.”

Minhyun’s fingers tighten into a grip as Jonghyun continues looking down. 

“It’s not needed,” Minhyun retorts harshly before he retracts his hand back to his side, “did you come here to play jester for them?”

His brother sighs before ending his charade. His boyish face loses its charm as the older sibling stares in blankness at Minhyun.

“Of course you would think that. Are you that desperate to uphold the Fox King so badly?” Minhyun nods at which Jonghyun clicks his tongue. It’s all the younger sibling has ever known, but Jonghyun has learned better. “The kingdom has changed now, and so have its people, Minhyun-ah. Why do you still not devote yourself to them, even when you are emperor?”

“You think I am not a capable ruler? I am not cruel nor am I weak, I feed and defend them, so what is it, Jonghyun?” It doesn’t change his brother’s disapproving eyes, and there’s nothing else Minhyun is able to rationally think of as his chest burns in frustration. “I must be doing fine if Father had chosen me to rule, _big brother_.”

“Father would have never picked you if he’d known you’d devote yourself to one man,” Jonghyun lashes back, “and not the thousands that need you.”

“Am I not allowed companionship? _Love_?”

“If you were even half decent at loving these crowds, I would’ve looked over it. But this man takes up more space in your mind than even you yourself do. Is he the people you promised yourself to? Is he among those crowds that look up at you with inspired eyes? You’ve seem to have forgotten your real purpose within these walls, little brother.”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t forget what I’ve been pushed into, but do not act so mighty when you were bypassed by your younger sibling.”

Jonghyun narrows his eyes. Even if the eldest of the presiding family spouts on and on about having a sense of amiability towards people, it’s the cold slit of his eyes that exactly mirror Minhyun’s. It makes the young royal almost burst into laughter in his brother's face. 

“Do you think you were ever different from me? Jonghyun? Look at your eyes, big brother, and tell me it’s not the power you seek,” Minhyun says. He turns back to the railing, and the tiny heads wandering below his feet, and places his hands on the edge. He hears a sigh, not so defeated but more with an edge of _later_ , before padded feet walk further away.

“You know,” Jonghyun says as he steps into the room beyond thin paper screens, and a hand comes gripping onto the wood doorway, “you think he is yours right? Do you think only you own the body that hides under white silk?”

Minhyun stiffens. Blood, hotter than the full sun of the overhead sky, rushes in tidal waves as he turns back to the blank face of his own sibling.

“What—“

“Do you know the color of the skin between his thighs? Did ever you taste how sweet his sounds were under the covers of his sheets?” Jonghyun cocks an eyebrow at the way Minhyun doesn’t respond. The tall emperor is frozen in his spot as he realizes it. He never has. “You haven’t even touched him below the collar, have you?”

“When was this?” Minhyun almost screams in Jonghyun’s face, but his voice remains unwavering against how cold the distance between Jonghyun and him feels. His feet remain steady on the wooden balcony, only because there is nothing to do. His heart is as much aching as it could ever be, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I watched a jade sun appear on his sash, and I’ve seen it sway in the air as I entered him. Funny, how I’ve never heard him utter the name who gave him that precious gift.” There’s a smirk on Jonghyun’s face that shows how pleased he feels. The emperor’s favored, friendly elder is nothing more than the blood he was born into. “Hwang Minhyun, my dearest little brother, you own many things, you even own a kingdom, but you’ll never own his heart like he does yours.”

Jonghyun walks off into the complex array of walls that is the emperor’s room and promptly disappears as quickly as he stood next to Minhyun. 

Under Minhyun’s nose, people chatter lively to their friends and acquaintances. No one spares a glance up at their worshipped emperor, not like when they silently begged for his older brother’s warm smile. It’s better that they don’t, not if they wanted to see the tiny trail of tears that run down the man’s white paper skin. 

Not many realize it, but Kim Jonghyun is as ruthless as the father that preceded them. The smiling faces of the people drown out Minhyun’s voice whenever he stands next to his adoring brother, so he always stays silent. He’s the fucking emperor for heaven’s sake, but even now he still feels like the clumsy toddler waddling around on his two weak legs, his father and older brother taking it in their own hands to forcibly strengthen him.

He’s weak. It shows in the way his hands tremble in anger, the way he can’t possibly care for the shy smiles his people give him, and in the way his heart shakes for one man. The kingdom, the land, the oceans, the _world_ could go to waste under his feet as long as Dongho stood by his side and watched the downfall of their weak species with him.

Gritting his teeth so tightly his jaw starts to ache from the pressure, Minhyun abandons the balcony and slips into a room full of warm natural light. It’s an annoyance now, all of it, the summer heat, the undistinguishable faces of the people surrounding him, the anger that boils on a low heat for Kim Jonghyun.

* * *

It’s dark outside when the emperor silently creeps through empty hallways and past knowing pillars.

The moon is a thin crescent in the sky, not quite the full moon he was hoping for, but it still reflects the sun’s beauty admirably. Patterns of stars shine brightly in ambiguous shapes, but it’s nothing Minhyun cares for as he crosses through grassy hills and dry ground. They could tell him his fortune, even, and he would still bypass them all for the sake of reaching the cliff he desires.

_Meet me at the cliff over the lily river when the moon rises._

The note Minhyun previously tucked into Dongho’s pillow sticks in his mind like a dart. He’s not sure if it’ll end up crumpled and torn under soft yet powerful hands or if Dongho will really grace the cliffs with his presence. 

His heart never stopped aching from the moment Jonghyun left him stunned out on the balcony. Even as Dongho’s lone body spread out on the grass picks it up from its slow pace, and his feet aim faster to reach him, he can’t help but feel the low tangle of sadness entwined within.

As soon as he reaches Dongho’s body, clothed in ink black robes with full sleeves, he drops down to the ground and rests next to Dongho. The man, head previously resting on top of his arms, looks up and smiles.   
  


“Minhyun,” he greets.   
  


Once Minhyun rests back on the cold grass, freezing even as he wears his own robes, Dongho scooches his body up to rest on his chest. His soft cheek rests against Minhyun’s beating heart, his hands bunching up white fabric and chest providing warmth to Minhyun’s side.

Despite the way that he notices Dongho did not use emperor anymore, Minhyun softly grunts as he relaxes against the hard surface. Despite the way his hand comes up to circle around Dongho’s waist, the hold so delicate and small that it feels so right, he doesn’t hide the way his eyes dim as he looks on.

“You seem overwhelmed,” Dongho says. His eyes look bigger, shinier even, as he looks up at Minhyun from his place on the emperor’s chest. His left hand trails up Minhyun’s thin shirt before landing on his eyebrow. With a slow back and forth motion, Dongho smoothes out the tension in the crease of his skin.

Minhyun closes his eyes as he feels the comforting caress of just a simple thumb across his skin. The hand resting on Dongho’s back mirrors the man’s own motions, and he rubs through thin satin with shut eyes.

“I have a lot of thoughts,” Minhyun replies. 

Dongho stops caressing his face, and the fingers remove themselves. Instead, the sound of grass being torn sounds right next to his ear.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?” 

His heart starts beating a step faster, and Minhyun hopes the head lying on his chest doesn’t notice the stutters in the beats.

“I don’t—“

“Jonghyun told me about your conversation.”

The tension that was swept off of Minhyun’s face is soaked back into his body. It creeps up his eyes, back into the pale skin between his eyebrows, and forces his eyes to open to the night sky.

“Jonghyun?” Minhyun bitterly asks. “Prince Kim, I prefer.”

“Minhyun.”

“ _What_ —“ Minhyun grits out before his throat can close up to his stunted voice, “what do you want me to say? Of course I am bothered. I am bothered by how I thought we were something special, but no, I am nothing new to you.”

Minhyun isn’t sure what he wants from the man breathing silently on his chest. He can’t take back the time they spent together, nor does he want to, but the way his chest feels so stuffed that he could burst into a million stars even with Dongho on him feels disgusting.

He feels movement on his chest, and he watches as Dongho leans up on an elbow to face him down. Minhyun is ever overwhelmed by Dongho’s harsh beauty, and he hates the fact that his anger always trickles down little by little when he remembers how beautiful Dongho looks just existing.

“Minhyun,” Dongho says as he looks into his eyes with a measured dose of pity, “you seem to have forgotten our purpose.”

_Purpose_. 

The word makes him sick, so much so that his stomach flips into a thousand back handsprings and lands unsteady.

_“You’ve seem to have forgotten your real purpose within these walls, little brother.”_

“Purpose? The one life you are forced into until the day you sink back as one with our Earth? Why does everyone tell me this?”

Dongho pushes back Minhyun’s rising chest until he lies flat on the ground once again. Still, the firm hand on him doesn’t let the anger subside, and Minhyun fumes as Dongho shifts up onto his hips.

“Do we have options, Minhyun? You are the emperor, and I am the palace’s companion. What else is there for us?”

Minhyun’s breath stops before it even exits his shrinking lungs as Dongho slides his hips down. Although Minhyun is soft, the hard press of Dongho’s hard cock against his own has his quickly fattening up.

“I don’t…”

“You worry so much over trivial matters. I am here to comfort you, and yet you anger at me. Tell me,” Dongho leans down and blows a cool breath over his right ear, “does that make sense?”

“No,” Minhyun says, with how light he sounds he thinks he must be on the verge of collapsing under heavy weight and small lips, “no, it doesn’t.”

He groans out into the comfortably warm night as lips slide up his jaw, past his reddening cheeks, and drop down onto his own in a weighted kiss. Despite how dry his mouth feels as Dongho sweetly kisses his previous trouble away, a tiny lick into his mouth brings a taste of moisture he craves to have all night. Minhyun’s arms trap the man’s waist onto his and pulls him closer, as if together they can meld into one and eventually lie as the grass he flattens under his back.

The light brushes of his bulge against Dongho’s is familiar, but that’s the extent of touches he’s felt from the other man before. Jonghyun is cruel at times yet truthful to a fault.

“Dongho,” Minnhyun groans as his cock twitches against Dongho’s slow grinding. His silk pants feel good against his skin, and the heavy weight of rounded hips on top of his almost crush him, but still he basks in it anyway. 

“Breathe, Emperor,” Dongho whispers as he slowly trails down the length of Minhyun’s body, “let me ease your mind tonight.” 

Fingertips skim along his stomach, light silk top unable to keep from the tiny trails of warmth Dongho traces as he crawls backwards on bare knees. Minhyun breathes in shallow breaths as he watches Dongho’s head dip between his untied robe. Fingers slip into the waistband low on his hips and pull down, baring his pale skin to Dongho’s burning gaze and the winds that graze his length.

When lips envelop him slowly, tenderly, he throws his head back and cries out to the open, watching sky. Despite the breathtaking twinkling of tiny white eyes miles above his insignificant body, it’s Dongho’s hair under his reaching fingers that pulls at his chest. The man’s head bobs under his hands, swallowing pleasantly and accepting the frantic way he forces Dongho’s head to meet him with every passing second.

Minhyun, like a desperate man on his last dredge of hope, repeats Dongho’s name like a mantra to the gods. Dongho’s head caressed by silk threads and long, frail fingers feels like a deity lain right between his legs, and so the long trail of hushed whimpers is made for him, pulled straight from the tight hollow of his lungs and drenched in such a sweet fervor he can barely breathe.

* * *

The taste of his own release soaks every inch of Dongho’s mouth as they pull each other in for a slow kiss. Nevertheless, Minhyun laps it up, licking straight into a hot mouth and holding up wide shoulders against his chest.

They part, wet skin pulling apart with a small noise, and Dongho breathes heavily through his nose with a scarlet blush painted over his ears. The color blends into his neck, and Minhyun follows it with a cold hand.

“You may take me now,” Dongho says as he pulls at the loose knot wrapped around his waist. Coal black lined with gold thread is parted to reveal all of Dongho that could be offered, perhaps even in the most honorable of shrines. It’s beauty, the sight of skin darker than his that melts so cleanly against each curve that it’s like a candle melting golden wax onto a canvas. 

Minhyun falters as he follows the shadows carving out Dongho’s chest, leading down to a waist that dips just as the hills had done so thousands of years ago, that once again broadens to hips, smooth and flawless as the rest. He longs to touch, has been longing since he was born, but Dongho’s body remains shivering to the air as Minhyun cups his jaw instead.

He shakes his head, watching as Dongho’s usually wide eyes meet his downturned eyebrows. There’s nowhere Minhyun can look that makes him strong enough to resist the burning gaze, so he settles for the dancing blades of grass beyond Dongho’s shoulder. 

“Like my brother did?” His own taste turns too sour as it spreads down to his throat. His grip tightens on the strong shoulder that takes the digging fingers, but his eyes don’t harden, not here. “I will wait until the moment you fall in love with me. Then, I know it will be true.”

The grass halts its dance, tells Minhyun to turn back to the beauty enveloped in darkness, and he listens. Dongho, who was so fragile and melting like the liquid painting his lips between his bent knees, isn’t cracking. The robe now covers his body, and his face falls into relaxation. It’s only when Minhyun’s eyes are brave enough to meet his that the emperor’s body is pushed back down to meet the ground. 

“Oh Minhyun, don’t you know?” Dongho’s breathing subsides tremendously as he relaxes his weight onto Minhyun. A large palm holds Minhyun’s cheek as he leans down to sigh so closely to his face.

With ruby red lips that finally took Minhyun down for the first time, a moment so pleasurable and fleeting, Dongho presses a silent kiss onto Minhyun’s nose. It’s not frantic, not even rushed as the moon comes down inch by inch and time passes as Minhyun tightly holds onto a looming arm. When Dongho breaks from him, there’s no hiding from the eyes that have taken over his narrowing vision.

“I already have.”

* * *

The scent of incense doesn’t just float through the air at this time of day, instead it permeates the room and invades Minhyun’s nose. Despite the woman kneeling at his feet and delicately fanning away the curls of smoke drifting up to the thin wooden beams, sandalwood and cloves linger like a distinct mark embedded within him.

Tired eyes watch as ash is stacked high in a golden censer, a large pot that riddles with symbols and shapes that confuses his vision. Swirls of dark forest green line the curled handles of the censer, smudged once again as tan hands carry the jar closer to Minhyun’s space.

The jar is pure, melted down gold that is rich between the thin walls, but Dongho places it down with an ease that comes without a single tick in expression. Once the jar is placed down, and the incense sticks have burned down to only a finger’s length, Dongho bows, forehead pressed to his hands that rest on the floor.

“You may leave,” Minhyun says even when his fists clench against the wooden armrest and he wants to scream the opposite.

Blond hair and the rare silver butterfly pinned to its strands leave the floor, and Dongho seemingly floats back up to his feet. Without another word, which was as expected of him, a professional until the day he dropped to the ground, but something Minhyun couldn’t watch even from his comfortable throne, Dongho leaves with a trail of lilac robes behind him. He disappears behind a wooden beam, the tail of his golden ribbon wrapped around his waist the last thing to flutter from Minhyun’s sight.

The slight sting of incense becomes stronger as the smoke piles up more than what can be fanned. Wooden scent stings his nose, lines his eyes with a thin layer of unshed tears even as the woman fans harder in the direction of the open sliding doors.

Despite the dryness of his eyes, Mihnyun leans forward and plucks a small incense stick out of the piled up ashes. The flames have already taken a quarter of its length away, the tip an ashy gray that burns with the lightest of red, but he holds it firmly in two enclosed palms. A small curl of smoke wafts up to his face, and he readily inhales it this time, closing his eyes against the scent of sandalwood.

He is meant to be praying for the success of his kingdom, the health of his people, the prosperity of their land for years to come. The incense in his hand comes from the blessed hands of solitary monks deep in the faraway mountains, each stick containing the power he needs to bless the whole of his people for generations that slowly roll out. It is his duty and obligation, to get on his knees and beg for the heavens to be generous with their fortunes.

Minhyun does crawl out of his seat, his unblemished knees hitting the carpeted floor while the incense burns shorter in his hold. Right in front of the large golden censor, imposing in its shining material and towering height over his bent figure, he starts to pray for the gods. Just as his father did, as did his grandfather and the fathers that came before, Minhyun bends forwards and rests his hands on the floor.

He wishes for the flowering robes of one man to remain by his side forever. He wants to grow old with the one who has stolen every piece of the heart that is no longer his, wants to steal that man’s voice for himself every single night and breathe it back into his mouth every morning. 

Hwang Minhyun, the foolish emperor that he is, is greedy and in love. He doesn’t grovel at the feet of the gods for the people, and the pride of his kingdom is meaningless as he forces his forehead up from the floor. 

As he softly pushes the incense back into the ashes, he wipes at his knees and sits back on his throne. The wisping flames of smoke are allowed to float free to the ceiling as the fans are stopped. His wishes carry themselves within the scented air where they can reach the place they are meant to.

At his side, Jonghyun smiles at him. The brush in his brother’s hand waves delicately on the paper as he takes note of the emperor’s ceremony, lighter in its actions than what transpired days ago. 

Minhyun meets his eyes, taking in all of the shine Jonghyun’s pupils reflect from the open doors opposite him. His proud brother scrunches his eyes up as Minhyun stares. 

The incense in the jar cannot lie in the way their wisps curl with his unspoken desires. The way Hwang Minhyun softly smiles back to his brother however, is human nature, the one that makes it so easy to deceive.

* * *

Minhyun cannot sleep. His eyes are wide open as crickets chirp on and on, the bothering song they sing grating to his ears and forcing the curtain draping over his bed to open. Just outside, there is nothing to see from darkened buildings besides the low hint of light coming from high above.

He is tired, his feet so heavy that getting up makes him want to rest right there and then. But, besides his eyelids closing slightly, he walks outside of his quarters. The servants are no longer there to follow him, the guards are back to their posts at the gates, and the emperor is left all alone to walk the open hallways of the palace.

If he is lonely, he doesn’t show it, even when no one but himself can see. The red columns holding up each structure are sturdy under his heaving grip as he swings himself down the soundless halls. The pale blue robes that slip down his shoulders, baring his skin to the fresh air, drag along the floor, continuously making shushing sounds that follow just as the annoying crickets do. But, it isn’t silence, and it makes him lazily trail around the corners.

The whispers of the wind stop him in his tracks when they seem to pick up too much. Summer breezes that are light, almost sweet, caresses are never that loud. 

When he rounds a corner, reaching the halls across from his, it isn’t the wind that picks up his attention but genuine voices. They speak softly, small hushed murmurs that know their intentions, not a single raise in volume disturbing the synchronized flow.

Minhyun becomes curious as hushed voices flow in and out of his hearing. Behind paper thin screens and strong beams, two people cower down in the corner and speak so fluidly he can’t tell where one voice begins and where one ends.

So, he slips along the wall with toeing footsteps. He feels along the screens that lead his way, the slight sliver of moonlight his destination as it lies right in front of the quiet whispering. Even with his long legs creeping in heavy, thick robes, the slight swish of their dragging against the floor doesn’t stop the voices from rising in volume.

The beam of generous light stops right in front of him, so he silences his steps. Gripping the wooden frame of the last screen loosely, Minhyun slides his face over the side and catches the two bodies talking closely. He promptly grips tight onto the wood as he realizes the hauntingly familiar figures.

Kim Jonghyun, his elder brother, leans his head in close to exchange indecipherable conversation with Dongho. With the way their robes are fanned out amongst themselves, it is impossible to know where bodies separate from each other even though their faces are as close as possible. Their lips move at speeds Minhyun cannot comprehend, so all he can do is hide behind the screen and watch as the two speak their secrets as they hide under the cover of the night.

Jonghyun leans in to capture Dongho’s cheek with his hand, the only thing that pops out of silky, thick green fabric, and fix dark eyes at the other man. Even from Minhyun’s place, he can see his brother’s lips part to bring Dongho closer. It hurts, his feet aching from the hard wood under his feet, burns at his eyes when Dongho’s hand comes out to thread his fingers in the waistband of Jonghyun’s wrapped waist. It’s a pristine white against Dongho’s touch, so beautiful as it adorns Jonghyun’s thin body, and together, they look so beautiful. 

Just as Minhyun and Dongho had seemingly blended together under both the burning sun and its dark companion, moments where he thought they were perfect together, there was Jonghyun and Dongho merely situated in a corner and speaking in low tones. He had stolen flowers from his own gardens, hid away from his quarters in the dark hours of night, neglected the eyes of everyone watching him just to get the moments that slid like smooth jade out of his grasping hands.

Jonghyun-- Minhyun turns his back against the screen as they get close, their noses brushing against each other’s, and Dongho’s fingers are too wandering-- he gets to savor it all. Always comfortable, always poised right by Minhyun’s side.

He’s too foolish, that was all. He never grew up, and even if his long torso stretches beyond his legs that reach like the peach trees right outside his balcony, it’s clear he’ll never mature beyond his simple dreams. Holding Dongho, calling him his every clear day and every foggy night, it was always simple.

The confines of his bed quarters are smaller than they were mere hours ago. The carved canopy covers the cushions under him and consequently his face. It’s so dark, so silent that the crickets that bothered him have also left him to lie quietly. He stares at the mother of pearl ceiling as the night wanders on.

The sun peeks the crown of its head out, black turning into a vivid blue, and only then does Minhyun’s eyes, lined with what feels like sand, close. The dried tracks following from the outer corners of his eyes and drying down to his ears remain unbothered, a careless emperor too tired to face the awakening world beyond him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt @ ifwithoutlove
> 
> my eye will fall out oh god


	3. Autumn Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyun eventually finds his purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps i lied in the first chapter but i am tired
> 
> but i hope you still like it, jelly :-) thank u for the strength it was delicious

When the leaves begin to fall, and they lose their green vibrance as they tremble on the floor, Minhyun finds himself indoors more often. His favorite flowers have shed their petals, and the sun no longer warms his joints, so with a hurt heart, he retreats to his palace where he sits in his room alone. 

The low table seated underneath the open window covers his lap and feet as he hunches over the wood. A small needle is looped through with green thread, and it easily presses through a square of red silk under his careful, stable fingers. It is nonsense, what he creates, but it is with small pride that he admires the way his slender fingers bend and fold with old familiarity.

The curtain covering the doorway is pulled aside. Heavy steps that do not belong to his servant means he startles out of his work. It is only his brother that trails into the room, small eyes wandering around and finding Minhyun occupied. 

He cannot bear to see Jonghyun, not when it has been a whole season where Minhyun had fallen asleep to cold sheets too often. Too alone. His face immediately darkens despite the lowering sun’s last orange light.

“Leave my quarters now, Jonghyun,” Minhyun spits. The threads in his hands almost unravel from the way his hands start trembling and stretching the strands apart. Before the fabric pulls apart, Jonghyun sighs and takes the needle out of Minhyun’s hand. He is not afraid of the anger that tugs at the seams of Minhyun’s robes.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. It is not begging, Jonghyun tells himself, it is not cowardly, he is not. The needle in his hand is gently placed onto a wooden dresser with the care of a man held up by two, weak threads.

“There is nothing important that concerns me right now. Leave.”

“Listen to me, Minhyun,” Jonghyun says through a tighter tone. 

“No,  _ you _ listen to me,” Minhyun bites back, finger pointing at his chest, “I do not want to see you here. Get out before I call the guards.”

“What, so they can kick out the prince?” Jonghyun asks, head tilting as Minhyun grips at the armrest under his nails. They scratch against the red fabric, making as much noise as the emperor’s tapping foot. 

When Minhyun’s mouth opens, perhaps to test his brother, Jonghyun leans forward.

“Okay,” Minhyun’s mouth closes as Jonghyun’s eyes harden, “okay. I will leave soon.”

“Now,” Minhyun points to the open doorway. The curtains hanging from above flap along as a cold evening breeze travels through the opposite window.

As Jonghyun stands up, he fixes the folded fabric of his belt and clears his throat.

“I only came here to tell you about Dongho.”

“The one you cannot stand me loving?” Minhyun asks bitterly. “Have you come here to tell me about your late nights together?”

Jonghyun shakes his head.

“Minhyun--”

“If it pleases you so much, I have resolved to break off our relations.”

Jonghyun freezes. 

“What?”

He looks out the window, a circle that crosses with thin wooden bars to prevent the wild from coming in. 

“I told you I love him, and you still choose to see him,” he states. “It is best that only one of us have him, for my sake at least.”

“Does it mean I love him though? Should I not allow him to do what he came here for?”

Minhyun’s neck cranes quickly to glare at his brother.

“He was mine.”

“The palace’s.”

The younger sibling scowls so fiercely that it could disturb even those that slumber from far away. At that, Jonghyun’s blood refuses to rise further and he relaxes. 

“I would hope this pleases you,” he says, unwavering to the slight bend in Minhyun’s eyebrows and softening jaw. “even if you do not deserve him.” 

The empty chair with its incredibly cushioned seat remains empty as Jonghyun stands tall in the open room. Now, Minhyun finally quiets for once as he follows his brother with too curious eyes, so predictable, uncomplicated, when that man is only uttered in passing.

Jonghyun has the strength of ten generations to not curl his lip in disdain when the emperor sits so attentively, his elder brother nothing but a man when what he really wants remains a cold memory in Jonghyun’s head. 

* * *

_ “Why did you call me out here?” Jonghyun asks as he walks up to a lone Dongho.  _

_ The string of the courtesan’s short robe is pulled towards him until his chest meets a broad back. His nose finds the curve where neck meets shoulder, and he steadily inhales the scent of honeysuckle. _

_ “You smell so good,” he growls as his teeth hints at an inch of flesh, “is this what you came here for?” _

_ His hand wanders up to the front of Dongho’s robe, and he slips fingers past the open folds. Underneath, just like his neck, the skin that stretches over a wide chest is slightly sticky from the scented oil. It permeates everywhere that Jonghyun touches, it waves up to his nose as he follows the upward trail of honey skin, it almost drives him to his knees the more he inhales every spot he can. _

_ This courtesan, this lovely man, he is so seductive that Jonghyun couldn’t help but have him all of those years ago. When muscles filled out, and slips of skin under silk robes kept his eyes peeled to anything but his work, he broke. It wasn’t a gradual thing; Jonghyun broke loudly and he broke gloriously, grabbing at a firm waist and pushing cries down Dongho’s throat as he took and bit and etched his full desires onto a squirming body. _

_ “Jonghyun.” _

_ The robe loosens even more at the waist the more he explores hard ridges, warm skin. His fingers, short and blunt, manage to reach across a stomach that dips back towards Dongho’s spine, a sensitive plane that tries to escape his incessant touch. _

_ “Prince,” Dongho begs as he turns his head towards the open window, out of reach from Jonghyun’s burning gaze. His hands, so elegant and soft despite their strength Jonghyun knows exists, reach deep into his robe and pull the prince’s hand out.  _

_ His eyebrows crease just as his own robes do when Dongho pushes him off. He loses the warm body, and his fists instantly clench to preserve it once the night air disturbs his hair. _

_ “Jonghyun, I am asking for a favor.” _

_ “A favor?” _

_ He steps towards Dongho who inches further backwards. He looks shy, a little meek, and it’s not the Dongho who usually beckons him with waving hips in the middle of the night. _

_ “Come here,” he commands, “tell me what you want.” _

_ Dongho’s head hangs down, his hands come up to pull the thin slip of fabric back over his bare chest, and he comes closer.  _

_ “I’m sorry, Jonghyun,” he whispers. _

_ “Why?”  _

_ “Minhyun, our emperor, I—“ he hesitates. Perhaps it is out of fear, or it is out of pity that Dongho turns around, hiding his face that slowly falls by the second. _

_ “I wish to marry him.” _

_ When they are both silent, only Jonghyun hears the rustling of cloth shoes quietly stepping against wooden floors. A slender shadow creeps against the bottom slit of the screen panels, and it slides closer and closer to the pair.  _

_ Jonghyun does not think for once in his life when he suddenly brings a gentle hand up to smooth at Dongho’s cheek decorated with a single, trailing tear. Shocked, confused eyes look up to him, and it brings nothing to his chest when Dongho, such a beautiful, weak man, grabs at his belt.  _

* * *

“You should be honored,” Jonghyun says as he watches Minhyun’s face scrunch in realization, “he finally loves you.”

He sighs as Minhyun remains still, his hands clasped on his lap as he stares vacantly at the opposing wall.

“You should expect him tonight. He will ask for your hand then.”

When he peeks his head out, a servant remains standing near the end of the hallway. They lock eyes, and the woman cowers as Jonghyun waves his hand, telling her to scurry away. When it is all clear, and nothing but the snapping of branches is clear to Jonghyun’s ears, he turns back and takes a hold of his little brother’s shoulder.

Minhyun startles when Jonghyun furiously whispers to him, “You will never forget the duty you took when this kingdom was passed onto you, do you understand?”

The fragile shoulder under his fingernails shakes as he grips tighter, holding on longer as if he could brand the words into Minhyun’s shoulder. And he wishes he could: etch the list of things he wish his brother would understand for the rest of his life, things that his naive self seems to never follow.

“You asked for love, and you begged for it, and you cried for him day and night, Minhyun. I know what you wish for when he brings that fucking jar to you, and I let you lie right to my face when you did,” Jonghyun says as he forces Minhyun’s eyes to focus right on the anger he feels stirring within him. “But I am allowing you this one chance to stop fooling around with our future.”

Minhyun must get it now. He should understand the lengths that Jonghyun would go through to ensure their names never leave the praising tongues of every single person beyond the lacquered walls. This idiotic, foolish, arrogant,  _ greedy _ man and the desires the palace itself couldn’t snuff out, it angers Jonghyun truly.

“I will marry you two,” he says as he lets go of his younger brother’s shoulder. The crease in the fabric is smoothened out by his own hands. “It will have to be private, however.”

“Why?”

Minhyun looks up at his older brother, finally breaking the empty silence he brought upon himself. When Jonghyun doesn’t answer with his hardened gaze, Minhyun speaks up again, louder than before.

“Why do you agree?”

_ You know how addictive he is, Jonghyun. You can taste how sweet his kisses are, so why are you throwing it all away? _

Throughout his life, Jonghyun was always, simply put, the best. When he was told to shoot the rabbit that kept sneaking their carrots, he brought back three that hid under the shade of the back pavilion. When he was taught the extensively complex strokes of their native writing, he brought back scriptures that brought tears to their mother’s eyes. He was sweet, kind, a charming little boy that shone like a golden apple in the palace rooms.

The model son, then, how could he be left to fall onto his knees to welcome his younger brother into the next emperor's reign? 

He had felt it then, a fury kept restrained deep within his own green robes as he watched this clumsy kid don their dead father’s navy, black-lined robes and call himself their ruler. It kept itself straining against his ribs for years, clawing down at his bones every day, and it was Dongho that let it pour out and stain his skin.

His younger brother, the one who was always a level behind him, won the crown and the presence of a beautiful courtesan that quickly fell for him. Jonghyun, the man who would have picked the crown at every turn, cracked when that pitiful child chose his damned heart over the hard glint of gold resting on his head.

“To have a weak emperor would be humiliating,” Jonghyun replies, eyes hardening as the seat he once longed for is slowly filled out by his sibling, “and having him would be the only way to strengthen you.”

Once again, just as he did decades ago to a clumsy, waddling toddler, Jonghyun helps his little brother up and forces him to walk ahead. He pushes at a back that constantly cowers under the pressure. 

Minhyun looks at him with a renewed shine in his eyes, the ones Jonghyun was faced with just years ago when the courtesan has entered the palace, and it makes the elder sibling tear his eyes away. He decides to leave the room before he regrets it, and when only a foot remains inside Minhyun’s room, Jonghyun reminds him. 

“Do not disappoint us, Minhyun.”

* * *

Dongho is as beautiful as he remembers when he’s resting. Although the fall breeze parts the thinning leaves of a hanging willow tree and blows his hair back, the courtesan still peacefully rests against the bark with shut eyes.

When Minhyun stops in front of him, his eyes flutter open with blinks that resemble a butterfly’s slow flapping. He’s not completely conscious to the world just yet, so it’s with bleariness that he looks up to the emperor.

“Minhyun?” he softly asks as sleeves come up to wipe at the corner of his eyes. When he’s finished, small wipes of pink stain his eyelids, the eyeshadow previously brushed perfectly into his skin now streaked across. 

Still, Minhyun notices the perfect beauty that makes up the tired face, a natural sense that fits right in with the hanging leaves. He’s standing right above the man, peering down at a hunched figure that slowly starts to unwind, and he cannot hold it anymore.

“Marry me, Dongho.”

If Dongho was not fully awake before, he snaps his eyes right open then and struggles to keep his sleeves clean as he tries to push up from the ground. White is already stained when he fails, simply because the way Minhyun stares so bluntly could make anyone weightless. 

The courtesan doesn’t have to move another inch, though, because the emperor himself falls to one knee, a heavy thud against the bare soil, then drops to the other. There, he bends himself over to cover much of Dongho’s body, the sun’s muted warmth eclipsed by sapphire blue sleeves that hang like silk curtains. Dongho has nothing other than too-big eyes to look at, something Minhyun forced when he dirtied his own clothes. 

“Flower,” the emperor calls as his pale fingers curl around a wide chin, “I want you to be my husband.” He does not want to beg, but silence passes on, and Minhyun’s mind begins to reel backwards. “Will you not accept my hand?”

“And the prince?” 

It could be an innocent question, it could be lined with a sliver of the courtesan’s heart, but either implication makes Minhyun scowl. An unsightly thing, the expression that snaps into place, but Dongho doesn’t cower.

“Are you worried about what he thinks?” 

“I belong to the palace,” Dongho says as he steals the breath out of the air they breathe with just a slow blink, and Minhyun almost misses what he says. “I cannot just devote myself to one person.”

“But you want to,” Minhyun says. His eyelids shake, the eyelashes in his vision flutter non stop as he tries to blink away the sting in his eyes. “Tell me you want to belong to me.”

“I do,” Dongho says, lips parting as quick as they can to reply. “But Jonghyun, he--”

Minhyun shuts his eyes tightly when he throws himself forward. The name that lingers on Dongho’s lips remains deep in his chest when he is fiercely kissed by the emperor. Hands come up to curl at Minhyun’s biceps, a tight grip that could chain him to the ground but the face that is merely centimeters from his is as lax as free flowing water.

It feels right. Correct. Anything Minhyun has ever felt in his life is incomparable, a void of twisting emotions that immediately dissipates when they come together. Spring grapes and their flowing juices could never be the taste of Dongho’s mouth, Minhyun finds as both of their mouths part for the other.

The chin in his hold moves passionately, and as he continues to caress upwards, every one of the man’s features freely move. Every aspect of kissing Dongho is dynamic, complex, a sport that requires his sole attention.

When Minhyun cannot breathe, let alone think of anything but petal lips, he pulls away, threading a hand through dark brown hair and ending at the soft nape. Up close, the hazel eyes that usually shine under the hot sun are muted. They look up at him, still, despite everything, and he can’t help but attempt to memorize the colors that hide away within them.

“Jonghyun,” Minhyun softly says, “he gave us blessing.” 

He laughs when hooded eyes turn wide and the hands around his arms fall. It’s nice, the feeling of exhilaration, when hazel disappears behind a dark pupil and Dongho shouts to the world right next to his ear.

“Really?” The courtesan, the elegant, graceful man, belts from meters away, bringing in the flapping of wings as birds flee. “Minhyun, do not lie.”

To settle him down, the emperor wraps long arms around the shorter man and holds him tightly. He’s almost afraid the man would fly away if he could, like a little bird free out of its cage. Minhyun plants his feet firmly into the ground.

“I am not, my love,” he whispers to Dongho’s back. “Even though I have wanted you since we met, it is now that I finally ask you to marry me.”

Before shoulders tremble under his hold, before soft sniffles can replace the rustling of hanging, limp leaves, Dongho replies.

“I will, my Emperor.”

* * *

The ceremony is a small, private one that confines itself to the center hall. Only three people are witness to the marriage, and one of them stands tall at the side of the emperor. Red columns run down right behind them while the statues of stretching foxes stand high on hand painted pedestals. Their eyes pierce down to the couple that face each other, but not a single person within that hall cares. It is the emperor's wedding, after all, and every action of his demands eyes.

“On this autumn day, I have come to share my best wishes for the emperor. My brother.” Jonghyun stares ahead at the two servants that lean on their knees. “Despite all that has come for him, he has chosen to continue his growth with another at his side. Kang Dongho, simply a palace courtesan, has proven that he is able to carry his worth for the kingdom, and for Minhyun. It is with honest pleasure that I grant them the official bearings of marriage.”

The brush in Jonghyun’s hand moves with grace as he signs his name at the very bottom. Where Minhyun and Dongho’s name intertwine with a flourish, he glosses over and imprints his own.

When Jonghyun rolls up the fresh scroll, the female servant climbs up the steps to hold it against her chest. It will soon be rolled out on the wall, right in the middle of the newly married couple’s room, a list of words that only proves a fraction of what they already knew. With that, the ceremony is finished; Minhyun is now wed to the man he already promised his heart to since years before.

In time, they will have to announce their marriage to the people. Jonghyun, the emperor’s second in line and sibling, will stand up high on the cobblestone steps that slope down to the kingdom’s main square and once again express his blessings to the world. The people will look on at the bright smile of the heir, and they will eventually cheer when he finishes with a grace only present within their bloodline. Jonghyun will make sure it is a sight, then, as halls are decorated and squares are filled with hanging flowers. They will step out as one, finally acknowledged by all despite the familiarity that wraps around them.

However, for now, in this tiny moment under an imposing brother and silent, submissive eyes, Minhyun leans in to capture his husband’s lips. It is particularly sweet when they kiss, a chaste, fleeting brush of lips that preserves humility. It is short, yet Minhyun could live with just that one touch tucked into his hands.

The hanging necklace around his neck softly clacks against the one that now hangs around Dongho’s. Jade, who has never worn out despite the years it’s been through, continues to cleanly shine as the Sun meets the mountains. When Minhyun looks up again, Dongho has noticed it too, and suddenly his chest is on the verge of breaking out into fizzling fires.

“I,” he swallows as Dongho looks up at him with bright red cheeks that could almost burst, “I am happy to call you mine, now.”

Despite Jonghyun’s short sigh in the background, he smiles up to his eyes when Dongho nods. He aches to take him into his arms and properly mark him. Not as the one who has stolen Minhyun’s heart, but the one who has properly offered his own for the emperor. It is just another thing that he owns, but gold could crumble under his hands and he would still cry for Dongho’s love.

Standing there, faced with the stunning beauty of his lover’s face beaming just as the summer sun did months ago during this cold fall, he faintly understands his older brother’s worries. There is nothing he would not go through to protect the curl of lips over shining teeth or the dancing fingers along cherry blossom pink sleeves. The kingdom is distant, joining the untouchable mountains to the west, and it is only one face that could lead him even to war. Dongho is dangerous, he realizes, and a look at Jonghyun’s face produces wisdom that has lingered even longer ago.

_ Such a pretty face _ , he thinks. It could not matter to him in the end, after all. The worms that will eventually overtake his body will be forced to wait until the one he passionately lives for allows him. He swears it, as he takes Dongho’s hand in his and presses a kiss to the back of it, that he will live only for one person as long as his eyes blink open to the morning sun.

After so many years of longing, many more spent unknowing of his purpose, Hwang Minhyun finally finds it with the brightest of people, the most exquisite of creatures that could ever exist. Dongho brings him renewed life, and with just a breath, the emperor feels alive.

* * *

As night falls and the sky dims, they lie in bed with arms wrapped around each other. It is their bed now, and it is with their shared covers that they place over bare, sweaty bodies to escape the light breeze reaching past them. 

Minhyun holds a slow breathing Dongho in his arms as hearts slow down to a light pace. The night has finished witnessing such a pleasurable act, so now it leaves them in darkness to settle and bask. Even if his eyes cannot claim the sight of his lover satiated, he does not curse the dark. 

It lets him clearly focus on muttered words uttered by a scratchy throat. He even notes the lilts in that voice that play like the melody of sharp strings. It is a wonderful, the night that brings a hush and plays just for them.

“If someday I was no longer the man you called beautiful, would you, even then, still love me?” The voice asks him as thick arms come around to smooth at his bare back. Warm fingers play at his drenched, cool skin, and it further lulls him. 

But he cannot sleep when such a small voice calls out for him to answer. He forces his eyes to stay open if only to feel the soothing scratches on his back. 

Reminiscent of when Dongho had weakly asked him of his love when spring blossomed beautiful gardens, it is with cold air that he asks for the final time. His endearing love still cannot understand the depths as to which he would crawl for him, but he still settles with a pleased hum.

“It would be impossible for me to love the you who would not be beautiful, because it does not exist,” Minhyun easily says despite sleep tearing at his eyes. It is at the darkest of times that Dongho reaches for him with blind eyes, accepting such an open invitation is only one of Minhyun’s wishes. “That man I found sitting by the flowing river, the one as beautiful as the flowers that bloomed on the second week of spring, I have never forgotten. Even now, I still remember the sight of your curved lips calling for me. Your emperor had fallen in love, and he still is as he speaks.”

Shuddering breaths brush his collarbone as Dongho finds solace in hot arms. They fit together just as water and flower do, or how earth and sun cannot live without each other. It is most comforting, most familiar, and Minhyun will fall into a sleep that feels like a thousand years and a million caresses all at once.

With a final sigh, he says to a love with an open chest, “Just like back then, and just like always, I love you, Dongho.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twt @ teacuptigr
> 
> my @ kinda cute tbh oop


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